


a laundry list of hurts

by lonelyghosts



Category: Sailor Nothing
Genre: Child Neglect, Child Soldiers, Gen, Pre-Canon, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-12 19:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21481687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyghosts/pseuds/lonelyghosts
Summary: Here is a grocery store receipt; slick paper, all items paid for in cash. Her signature is wobbly. She had broken a wrist the day before.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	a laundry list of hurts

**Author's Note:**

> tw for child neglect, injuries, what is essentially a child soldier (himei)

Here is a grocery store receipt; slick paper, all items paid for in cash. Her signature is wobbly. She had broken a wrist the day before, wrapped it in Ace bandages. All the cashiers can call her by name, look at her with pity, sometimes tell her that the bruise cream is on the house. This receipt shows that she bought ice and Advil, caffeine pills and the cheapest shittiest coffee that she could find.

She took the caffeine pills and ground them up till they were nothing but white powder and then dumped it in the black coffee like it was sugar, downed it in one gulp and wiped her mouth before going back out to the streets, head pounding, popping an Advil on the way as habit, even though she knows they don't work on these headaches.

Her purse has a switchblade in it, just in case. She can't always be Sailor Salvation. Deodorant, which she forgets to put on more often than not. Comes to school stinking of sweat. Would smell worse, except she always showers after. Can't bear the thought of her own blood crusting her hair, can't bear the thought of becoming consumed by this.

She buys cat food and treats and looks at the cashier and wonders how difficult he would be to destroy- would he be fast enough to grab her arms, punch her hard enough that she stumbles. Foot cream for the thick calluses on her feet from walking, running miles in order to make it in time to save someone. 

Burn cream and antiseptic. Makeshift splints out of rulers and old T-shirts- she can't wear short sleeves anymore, people will ask questions. Half-finished homework on the table forgotten in favor of yet another battle. Head echoing with what he said last night- _not good enough,_ _practically a murderess yourself, unreliable, dangerous_\- striving to be better at first and then just hating herself.

Google searches for how to get blood out of clothes. Doing all her laundry at night. She used to stutter over her words when she got caught, hadn't yet learned that it didn't matter what she said, her parents would not care anyways. She wonders what would happen if she went all blood-covered to school. 

Sometimes it feels like all the Yamikos are dreams, like she's maybe narcoleptic enough that she's just falling asleep. She wonders why Magnificient Kamen picked her. What did he see in her?

It used to feel easy. She could slip out of places easy, sneak up on Yamikos without being noticed and then go through the sequence. In the old days she'd come out with a bruise on her shoulder or a cut on her arm and that was it. She used to be good at this.

Amazon dot com wishlist: a kevlar vest.

Bandaids all strewn on her floor. Boxes of gauze and white bandages and towels. Painkillers and Advil so that she can get through the school day without fainting. Sleeping pills so she will sleep without nightmares; these days she looks at the bottle and sees release.

Photos up on the hallway walls that she cannot bear to look at. Little tooth-gap girl with her long hair halfway to her waist, not knowing all the ways that such a hairstyle will make her vulnerable in a fight. The wide genuine happiness in her smile. 

Here, the girl herself these days:

Tall, skinny and lanky even though she's been trying her best to build up muscle. Bangs cut choppy and high so it doesn't get in her eyes. Olive skin and a litany of scars across her body; her arms, her legs, her torso. These scars are not pretty either; they are ugly and marr the skin and make her even more a mess than she already is. Some of them when she was only little; she will go through life scarred and cracked and broken until the end.

Here are her hands, so accustomed to the poses of Sailor Salvation that she feels her fingers shift involuntarily; here are her slack and scarred arms, hanging loose by her side. Here are her gangly legs; her feet. One of her toes was broken, once, and healed badly; it will always be crooked now, she thinks. 

Most of all here are her eyes, huge and dark and utterly resigned. They have been blackened more times than she can count; she has discovered which brand of bruise cream is her favorite. They are offset by purple bags. She does not remember the last time she slept for more than four hours. 

Her mouth has forgotten smiling. She has forgotten laughter, and her name. It is either Shoutan Himei or it is Sailor Salvation. She does not remember which one is real anymore; perhaps neither. 

She is a Magical Girl and she has been since she was nine. She is sixteen now, and she is very tired.

**Author's Note:**

> i cant believe i am singlehandedly pioneering sailor nothing fic (if this is not true please tell me where i can find sailor nothing fic my crops are dying-)


End file.
